First Pulse

Silence. A sudden faint tremor rippled through my spine, unlocking joints that had remained frozen. I drew a cautious breath, testing the cold night air. Slowly, deliberately, I flexed my sickle claw against the coarse weave beneath me. The fabric caught slightly, resisting before yielding with a tiny snag. I tilted my snout down, tracing the white outline of a printed skateboard graphic directly under my forelimb. Solid ground. Functional limbs. I tightened my grip on the sheet and held still, listening intently into the dark.